


The Cries of the Night

by Septic_wolf



Series: Darkness follows you [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Demons, I Tried, Immortal!Bruce, The boys make an appearance, This was me trying to make an ambiguous short story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septic_wolf/pseuds/Septic_wolf
Summary: Gotham groaned for its protector. Bruce wasn't too sure what that meant for him.
Series: Darkness follows you [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908796
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	The Cries of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> For the first time in forever... I had a butt-ton of homework and I recently got a job so I've been a little busy. But I had a few hours and decided to write this little blurb for you all. Hope you like it.
> 
> Not my favorite but I don't think it's terrible!

The shadows licked along the edges of the cape. Curling, writhing, groaning to be released by a man that hadn’t the slightest clue what releasing them would mean. Were the shadows the parts of himself that he kept in line? Were they meant to help with the mission? Bruce didn’t know, but they were getting louder each pressing day that he put on the cowl. He ignored the blackening greyish skin.

The darkening eyes.

The face that reflected back to him in the mirror was startling, to say the least. Bruce hadn’t thought much about the small changes, as they usually went away after he blinked his eyes. The change lingered that morning, prompting Bruce to offer the reflection his full attention. The figure didn’t really do anything, just a reflection. But Bruce looked at his hands, they were normal. He looked back up, they were dark, greyish black, and claws emerged from his fingertips. It was grotesque to look at.

He didn’t think on his next action. Simply pulled a towel from the rail and threw it over the mirror. It made him think of the things that people did back then when they would have the “wakes” in the household. Cover the mirrors, open the windows, and pray to God that no spirit stayed in the house to haunt you.

_I’m nothing better than a haunting ghost in this life._

A morbid thought, but Bruce blamed it on the fact that coffee hadn’t been consumed yet that morning.

Bruce didn’t try to think about the reflection. He ate his toast, with raspberry jam mixed with butter, and looked through the paper. Dick was sitting to his right, scarfing down his cereal to hurry himself along to go with Tim on a walk on the manor grounds. It was a calming routine that Bruce had learned helped Tim when he was overworked at W.E.

Tim was next to Dick, calmly drinking coffee. His fingers were busy with his phone in his other hand, which was plucked away and replaced by a fork when Alfred set down his breakfast in front of him. There was a small look of surprise that quickly passed, and he started eating.

Jason had taken up his usual spot on Bruce’s left, drinking an herbal tea and hissing when he moved wrong. The patrol last night through the narrows had caused two of his ribs to crack and another to be bruised. Alfred had insisted that Jason stay at the manor to make sure he didn’t injure himself further. _“I’ll stay Alfie. Besides, Bruce said he got a few new books in the library that he thought I would like.”_ One of those books was next to Jason already, bookmark towards the beginning.

“Master Jason, I do hope that you’ll refrain from quick movements today. I’ll check your ribs after breakfast and then I would hope you’ll recover in the study or lounge for the duration of the day. It would do you well to have a day off from running around on rooftops.” Bruce glanced towards his second-oldest, who sighed to himself. It wasn’t as if Jason didn’t mind taking a night off, but he didn’t like anyone else patrolling Crime Alley.

“I’ll watch over the Alley tonight, or however long. I may not patrol there often but I’m still intimidating.” Bruce mussed, though coming across duller than what the comment was meant to sound like. Jason glanced at his father figure and shrugged.

“Not like I have much of a choice.” Muttering as he took another sip of tea. Bruce felt a tightening in his chest for a moment before taking a breath through it. It was hard for Jason and Bruce at the start, after his death, and even now. Jason didn’t stay at the manor, had his own place, and everything near the Alley. Bruce knew the reason for him keeping space, and he respected that, but it hurt in its own way to know that his son wasn’t protected under his roof like he wished he was.

_The death of a child is the worst a parent can ever experience._

Bruce retired to the study after breakfast, ignoring the twinge in his stomach that had started after he’d finished his toast. It was common now for Bruce to feel that pain, bear it, and ignore it until it went away. Which was more or less when he put on the cowl and he could get the feeling out of his system by punching evildoers in the face.

Alfred entered into the study, tea set in hand, and setting it down on the table next to Bruce’s desk. “I take it that you put the towel on the bathroom mirror for a reason, sir?” The master of the house blinked. _Towel on the mirror…_

“Uh yeah, steam.”

Alfred stared at Bruce unimpressed, but without a need for further explanation (They both knew Bruce wasn’t going to say anything else), Alfred walked back out into the hall and closed the door to the study.

Bruce practically fell back into the chair with a heavy sigh. The shadows of the room were desperate, crying out for Bruce to just call to them. It was tempting, just to get them to shut up so that he could work on documents that needed to be signed before the next board meeting on Monday.

Bruce sighed, picked up his pen. His hand shook as he brought it down to the page. His penmanship suffered greatly but he was able to get his name down on one of the pages. Initial. Signature. Initial.

Date.

Initial.

Signature.

Signature.

_Signature._

_Initial._

_Name_

_Name_

_NAME_

_RAaaaHHAAaaaaa!_

Bruce dropped his pen, handshaking violently as he felt a chill run down his spine. Beneath his desk, Bruce could feel the cold clasp of the shadows that had grabbed onto his leg. It wasn’t like a hand, no, it was a feeling. The tremble that was so familiar to him and yet foreign to him. It wasn’t physically pulling on his pant leg, but when he looked around the room, he noticed the ever-darkening room. The shadows stretched towards him with jagged edges that seemed only to relax when he gazed at them.

_My stomach stopped hurting._

The thought was so fleeting, and Bruce hadn’t realized it was true till he took stock of how he felt. The pain was gone, he felt as if nothing were wrong. _What was happening?_ Then, when Bruce thought back to the shadows, they were quiet. Seemingly satisfied with just touching him, being near him, and in his presence. Something that was simply there with him.

_The shadows will always be your protector._

A statement. A phrase that Alfred once said in passing one night when he’d returned from a patrol alone. The boys weren’t around yet, not even a thought. But Alfred had mentioned the shadows. How they seemed to be following him that night, gravitating towards him even when he was in the manor. _“It’s as if the darkness of Gotham herself wishes for you to be with her forever.”_

It was a… calming thought to say the least, but Bruce felt the pang of anxiety. The reflection. Was that a part of the shadows as well? Was that what he was meant to become if the shadows were to be believed? Was this what Gotham wished for him?

To be the presence of darkness… Controller of shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Leave a kudos if you liked it, makes my day! And leave a comment, I'd love to chat with y'all :)


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